25. Enzo #2
I glance over my shoulder at his small army walking behind him in formation and hope to fuck he brought more weapons than they appear to be carrying. Or maybe it’s the concussion blurring my vision.
I press on, opening doors without a thought for any potential Bratva ambush lurking in the shadows. I jump on floorboards testing their hollowness. I almost close the door to a large functional utility room when I notice a glint of metal from a hook set in the floor.
It’s a trapdoor.
It opens easily when I go inside and lift the wooden hatch to reveal a stone staircase leading down to pitch blackness and silence.
I don’t hesitate. Gesturing at Gio to cover me, I place my foot on the top step, waiting for the first bullet to find its mark.
It doesn’t.
Another step, and I hold onto the edge of the gap in the floor to keep my balance.
“I’m coming with you.” Demi is behind me, and I realize there’s no point arguing with her. She never listened once she’d set her mind to something, and I’m glad nothing has changed. “Hand me your cell phone, Enzo.”
I don’t question it. I hand over the device, and a small arc of white light lands at my feet, highlighting the blood spatters on my boots and pants, and the sheen of moisture on the steps.
The light sways, or maybe it’s me, but I lean against the wall for support and focus on putting one step in front of the other.
Malevsky and his men are not down here. It’s immediately apparent that there’s nowhere for them to hide.
The containers are too small to hold an adult, and when Demi shines the flashlight around the basement, it’s neat as a pin, everything stacked against the wall, no half-used paint tins, no cartons of unwanted kitchen appliances, no garden hoses or shovels or spare motor engine parts.
“What have you found?” Gio is down here too.
It niggles away at the back of my mind that we shouldn’t both be down here because this must be part of Malevsky’s plan, but his men are guarding the trapdoor above our heads, and I’ve spotted a heavy door on the other side of the basement.
“A way out,” I say.
I try the door, but it’s locked.
“Or a way in,” Demi adds.
“She’s right. We should get out of here.” Gio’s eyes scan mine for signs that I’m holding up, then he glances back towards the trap door.
“Do you think this is a trap?” Demi asks.
I can smell the gasoline clinging to her sneakers and running tights. The cartons lining the walls, I realize now, are cardboard. One tiny spark from his lighter, and a fire would spread around the basement before we could take a breath.
“Go!” I’m running out of words, and the concussion is jumbling my thoughts and making it hard to concentrate. “I’m right behind you.”
Demi makes it to the bottom of the stone staircase first. One step, and we hear gunfire from inside the house.
“Stay with Gio and his men.” I don’t want her waiting around for me. “Gio, you need to get her out of here.”
Gio goes next. I can see two of his men waiting by the trapdoor above our heads, but the gunfire is getting closer; Malevsky was tracking our movements and choosing his moment.
While we’ve been underground, it sounds like he and his men circled back on themselves and invaded the house one step behind Gio, and one step ahead at the same time.
My legs feel like they’re made of wood. My breaths feel like I’m underwater, and I’m starting to shiver.
“Not fucking now,” I mutter to myself as I watch Demi leave the basement behind.
Gio hesitates when he reaches the top step, and I can’t fathom how he got so far ahead of me. “Enzo, talk to me.”
“I’m fine. Keep Demi safe.”
More gunfire. Malevsky and his men have found Gio’s foot soldiers.
“He’s mine,” I remind my brother.
But he’s gone.
Fuck! I need to snap out of this, fuck the pain off, and get the job done. I promised to protect her with my life, and it all comes down to this moment, right here, right now.
Deep breath.
I don’t see them, but I trust Gio to protect Demi the way I would protect Meggie and the children if the roles were reversed. I raise my gun as I approach the top of the staircase, gripping it tightly when I notice it shaking in my hand.
I’m almost there when the hatch closes, plunging me into darkness.
What the fuck! “Gio?” I bang on the hatch with the gun. “Don’t do this! The fucker is mine!”
Nothing.
“Demi? Let me out!”
Seconds pass, and all I can hear is my labored breathing over the continuous gunfire which feels like it’s miles away.
Then Demi calls out, “Enzo? What happened?”
“Gio shut me in! Let me out, Demi.”
There’s a pause, and my fuzzy brain tries to figure out what’s going on up there, what’s taking them so long to open the hatch.
Is Demi convincing Gio to get me out? But it feels all wrong; Gio wouldn’t do that to me, not where Demi is concerned.
It would be like locking him in a room and expecting him to sit tight while I protect Meggie and the twins.
“It won’t move.” I hear the panic in Demi’s voice through the floor. “It’s stuck, Enzo.”
“It can’t be. I opened it before. Where’s Gio?”
“I’m right here.” My brother’s voice, usually so calm, has a brittle edge that jars my back teeth. “I didn’t shut you in.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
If he didn’t shut the hatch, there’s only one other person it could’ve been. I locate the burner phone in my pocket, fumble with it to switch on the flashlight, and aim it at the hatch above my head. I can’t see a lock from this side, but when I thump it with my fist, it doesn’t budge. It’s solid.
The only way I’m getting out of here is by blowing up the hatch above my head or the door to his secret escape route and risking the house caving in on me.
“This is why you always need a Plan B.” I hear Gio’s voice inside my head.
“Never needed one before,” I think out loud. “Demi, move away from the hatch.”
I pull the explosive device from my inside pocket and shine the flashlight on it as gunshots ring out directly above me.
“Demi!” I bang the hatch with my gun, knowing it’s futile. “Leave her alone, you fucking coward! I’m the one you want.”
Silence.
Then three bangs on the other side of the hatch echo inside my head and send ice slithering down my spine. They sound like someone stomping on it with a heavy boot.
“Sit back, Mr. Sabatelli. I’ll let you out in good time.” It’s Malevsky.
“Where’s Demi? If you’ve touched her—”
“You’ll what? Shoot me through the hatch?” He’s enjoying this. “Why don’t you try it? Give it your best shot, and I’ll tell you when you miss your target.”
I’m not wasting my bullets on a trapdoor; they have his name on them, and I won’t miss when the time is right.
“Where is she?” I demand.
I want him to tell me that he doesn’t know where she is, that she got away, that our little stunt helping her escape won’t cost us; this would be the best-case scenario. Worst-case scenario will be finding out that she’s trapped with him, and I can’t reach her.
On cue, something—or someone—lands on the hatch with a thud that reverberates inside my rib cage.
“Get your hands off me!” Demi yells. “Enzo? Are you—”
Her voice is muffled as though her captor has covered her mouth with his hand, and I instinctively aim the flashlight at the hatch as if it might illuminate her on the other side. Where the fuck is Gio? He was supposed to get her out of here, and I refuse to believe that he’s dead.
“What do you want, Malevsky?” I yell.
“I have everything I need,” he says, and I can almost picture him sitting back on a couch with his feet up and a whiskey glass in his hand while Demi kneels at his feet, bound and gagged. The mental image makes me feel queasy. “Killing you will be a bonus. The icing on the cake as they say.”
“He didn’t do it.” Demi deliberately raises her voice so that I can follow the conversation. “It was Bianca.”
I must’ve always known this, but hearing Demi say the words out loud, rams it home like a hammer sealing a coffin lid.
Is this why Bianca came back now, to finish what she started a year ago, and take herself one step closer to inheriting the family business?
Or was it simply a case of bad timing on her part?
It would explain why she vanished when she had the chance.
“I’m bored with your whining.” This is Malevsky. “You’re too late.”
“I’ll take full responsibility for the fire,” I call out directly underneath the hatch, head tilted back, so that he can hear me. “Forget Bianca. Forget Demi. Just me and you, Malevsky, if you think you can handle it.”
“No, Enzo!” Demi cries out. “I know you didn’t do it.”
A gunshot jolts every nerve ending in my body and my back teeth crack together. “Demi?” Please, God, I make a silent prayer. Please keep her alive. “Demi!”
I bang the hatch with my gun, yelling her name until I’m hoarse.
When I stop, there’s only silence from the utility room.
“Malevsky!” I bang again to get his attention. “I’m coming for you, asshole!”
The concussion has backed off, its fuzziness unnecessary and unwanted. The pain in my shoulder has dulled to a throb that I can tune out, and the bullet wound that I may or may not have in my leg has conceded defeat.
Two options. The hatch or the escape route. Malevsky will know either way when he hears the mini explosion, but I used up the surprise factor when I climbed through the upstairs window.
I hear the faint barrage of gunfire. Gio is still alive, holding off the Bratva goons, for now. Time to show Malevsky that I’m not the weakest link he thinks I am.
One explosive device left; I need to make it count.
A sound from the basement behind me raises my hackles.
I turn around too fast, brain cells spinning as the flashlight on my burner phone creates a wavering orb of light that barely reaches the bottom step.
I descend slowly, waving the glow left and right, staring into the shadows beyond for a glimpse of movement. All is still.
Maybe I imagined it. Malevsky wouldn’t send his thugs to finish me off; he’d get no entertainment from that, and besides, he has Demi for a reason.